


Atonement

by crystalcompassion



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: (with an audience...), Begging, Crying, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poor bb, Someone stop me, but in an emotional release kind of way, idk but this is probably very unhealthy, im back with more porn without plot, sex as therapy???, shes surrendering and its beautiful but shes's also suffering, sub!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalcompassion/pseuds/crystalcompassion
Summary: Convicted mutineer Michael Burnham is convinced that she needs redemption - she’s on the path to it, on her knees, in Captain Gabriel Lorca’s ready room.Set somewhere between 1x03 Context is for Kings and 1x05 Choose Your Pain.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca | Mirror Gabriel Lorca
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this to be a series of vignettes, of Michael, Lorca and the Emperor, and Michael's relationship with power, surrender and atonement with both of them (I love sub!Michael and I will not lie....) 
> 
> Maybe this will turn into that at some point. For now, Michael's just working out her feelings with Lorca. 
> 
> Your comments & kudos are always appreciated, and make me feel a little bit better about losing sleep to write porn LOL. I love knowing y'all are here :)

The door chimes as Michael Burnham is granted entry into Gabriel Lorca’s ready room.

‘Captain,’ she says, announcing her arrival. She doesn’t need to, because the desk that Lorca is standing at faces the entrance. It is the only thing separating the two of them as the doors close behind her. This is not the first time she has come to him. It has always been the captain’s ready room, never his quarters. This is not intimacy, she reminds herself. _This is a step on the path to redemption._

He doesn’t look up at her. He’s working on something, poring through a padd, in concentration. She knows he has acknowledged her when she hears him tap the control panel, when she hears the hiss of the doors as they lock. She begins to take off her clothes.

Her process is slow, rhythmic. She begins with her jacket, unzipping it, as she moves to the rest of her clothes. There is order, in her mind. Michael Burnham thrives on order. She folds them and arranges them in a neat pile, places it on the floor beside the sliding doors. She is ready.

She kneels on the ground. She finds her place, allowing his desk to be a barrier between them. The desk is high as he stands behind it. All she can see are his shoes and the bottom of his legs. She inhales sharply as he begins to step towards her.

‘Why are you making me wait, Burnham?’ He asks.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Where will you have me?’

‘On the floor,’ he says, nodding towards the corner of the room, against a console by the wall.

‘And on your knees,’ he clarifies, but she already knows. She crawls to the edge of the room, hands and knees, _slowly, deliberately._ She feels his eyes on her as she moves. _He sees her. He knows her. She knows her place. She will show him._

He is calm, collected. _He is her redemption_.

_She killed her captain, today she will be redeemed. She let down her crew, today she will be redeemed. Her sentence had been for life. Today, she will be redeemed, for all the people she had killed. Maybe today, maybe today she will be forgiven. Maybe today will be the day she walks out of Lorca’s ready room, telling herself that she will not have to come back._

_Her captain is her salvation._ She hears him again, in her head, like the day they first met, when he told her she would take a role on Discovery, when she had refused him, not because she was not honoured _— she was honoured, to be offered a position —_ but because she was undeserving. Because she had not paid her debt.

_'Do you think I care what your preferences are?’ He had said. No, because her preferences did not matter. In her redemption, all that mattered were the things he wanted. All that she was, was his._

**•**

'Touch yourself, Burnham,’ he orders, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She supports herself, one hand behind her back as she spreads her legs, sitting so he can see from where he is perched, leaning against the side of his desk. She licks her fingers, moistening them, more for him than for her because she knows she is already ready. Her fingers run over her clit, spread, ready, waiting, eager, _she is ready —_ it barely takes a second for her to feel sensation. She arches her back, her mouth falling open. _It is so easy with him. It is so easy for her to serve her penance._

‘I want to hear you,’ he says, a hint of a smile crossing his face — ‘and faster, Burnham,’

She will moan for him if it pleases him, _she will scream for him if it pleases him._

Michael exhales, an airy, longing sound as she moans, as she begs with her breath, as she rides on the approval of his smile, as she shows him _— she’s sorry, she’s sorry, she’s sorry, please —_

She brings her fingers deep inside her, up to her knuckles. She winces as she wills them deeper, she wills them faster, trying to synchronise the rhythm of her fingers with the rhythm of her beating heart. She watches as Lorca watches her, she knows that he’s looking for the point where she goes over the edge, she thrusts deeper, faster, running her thumb over her clit at the same time _oh gods, YES —_

_**•** _

‘Stop,’ Lorca murmurs, softly, dangerously. He does not need to be loud for her to understand. She withdraws her fingers, raising her hand in the sky as if in surrender, her ragged exhales following her as she looks at him. She knows, she would not have let herself even if he had not warned her.

‘Fucking hell, Burnham,’ he exhales, steepling his fingers, running his index fingers between his eyebrows, allowing them to graze his forehead, separating them as he runs them through his hair.

_Redemption lies before her. Here, in this room, as she performs her penance._

‘Fucking hell,’ he repeats, as he walks towards her, just inches away — _please, yes —_ she hears arousal in his voice.

He stands, as he always does. He is clothed. She lifts her thighs off the back of her ankles as she reaches for him, as she rubs her cheek against the smooth fabric of his pants. He is ready for her, she is ready for her redemption. She undoes the clasp that holds up the top of his uniform. She looks him in the eyes as she unzips him, as she pulls down his Federation-issue underwear, black, elastic. He raises an eyebrow as he looks back at her.

_He is ready for her, her redeemer is ready._

She uses her mouth, as she always does, her hands behind her back, he does not have to restrain her. Her mouth is wet as she allows her tongue to move up and down his length, deeply, slowly. She kisses him as she licks, _her salvation._ She holds his tip in her mouth, lifting her chin, looking in his eyes.

’Please,’ she begs, her mouth around the tip of his cock. _‘Please, use my mouth.’_

He listens. He moves, his hand on the back of her head. He is quick. His touch sends shivers down her spine, her breath turns heavy. She sucks in a breath as she moves, as he allows her to taste him, as he fills her _—_ _as he fucks her, as he uses her, her redeemer, he tastes so fucking good on her tongue as he fucks her —_

She coughs, her arms betray her as they try to push her away from him, as she struggles for air as he pushes himself further into her throat. She resists her reflexes. This is the key to her redemption. _She is strong, Michael Burnham, she is strong, and she will take her penance._ She feels his length inside her, she hears him _— ‘good, yes —‘_ , as he grunts his approval, as he thrusts further into her mouth, her lips rounded, ready, yes, she feels the muscles in his legs beginning to tense, she meets his eyes as they consume her with universes, with light, with _acceptance_ , he looks at her as he comes, deep inside her, slowly moving himself to the front of her mouth, letting her wrap her lips around his tip as she tastes him, as she cleans him.

**•**

He nods his approval. She begins to sob, his cock still in her mouth.

He has seen her like this before. _It is part of her atonement._ She allows her tears to fall, allows herself to centre herself as he moves himself out from her, as she feels herself — _melting, falling, falling, so fast, she aches with both desire and release —_

He lowers himself, crouching, kneeling with her, in front of her, on the ground. He moves his hand, between her legs, two fingers extended towards her, grazing the tip of her entrance ever so slightly, an invitation, a question, he dares her with his eyes and with his words.

‘Are you deserving?’ He asks, his blue eyes an icy ocean, nothing exposed.

She pauses for a fraction of a second. _As if it were a question._

‘No, sir,’ she breathes, from a place deep in her throat, as she closes her eyes, blinking the last of her tears away.

He takes his hand away.

He moves his fingers close to her face, grazing the topmost strands of her hair, almost touching the side of her face. She leans in to him, pushing herself into his palm, burrowing her cheek into his palm like a cat nestling in a blanket. She allows herself to exhale, deep and full. _One step closer. One step closer._

He nods, and she sees his care. She sees his understanding, his concern. _Her penance has not been paid, but she feels herself inching towards redemption._

**•**

He taps the console. The doors unlock. He picks up the padd on the desk again, at once absorbed in his data again, her role fulfilled.

‘Dismissed,’ he says.


End file.
